


Longest Night

by vega_voices



Series: You Are Like That, [12]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Christmas, F/F, F/M, Friendship between women, Gen, Yule, blink of an eye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:14:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28234494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vega_voices/pseuds/vega_voices
Summary: “Well, that’s the basis for the religion after all. That God impregnated a virgin to give birth to his son, who would save the world from sin. Wouldn’t be such a cool story if she was just a young bride.”
Relationships: B'Elanna Torres/Joral Kreshi (OFC), Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway, Kathryn Janeway/Destrin Evrin (OFC), Kathryn Janeway/Mark Johnson, Tom Paris/B'Elanna Torres
Series: You Are Like That, [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861696
Comments: 10
Kudos: 24





	Longest Night

**Title:** Longest Night  
**Author:** vegawriters  
**Fandom:** Star Trek: Voyager  
**Series:** You Are Like That,  
**Pairing:** B’Elanna Torres/Tom Paris; Mentions of: Kathryn Janeway/Mark Johnson; Kathryn Janeway/Destrin Evrin (OFC); B’Elanna Torres/Joral Kreshi (OFC); Kathryn Janeway/Chakotay (UST)  
**Rating:** G  
**Timeframe:** Post Blink of an Eye  
**A/N:** 1) This is what happens when you’re up all night with the Solstice. 2) References to some of the beta-canon for Mark Johnson established in Una McCormack’s _The Autobiography of Kathryn Janeway._  
**Disclaimer:** Voyager is not owned by me, obvs. So I am here, writing fic, and filling in the blanks. 

**Summary:** _“Well, that’s the basis for the religion after all. That God impregnated a virgin to give birth to his son, who would save the world from sin. Wouldn’t be such a cool story if she was just a young bride.”_

_The new day has been given  
so whatever befell us yesterday  
can be withstood, not as it was,  
but as if we had perished  
into it, and, despite horror or joy,  
something miraculous could be  
done with us that surpasses even hope,  
which only wants ascension of the prospect  
and not the helpless, dire turn - its  
clang and echo. _  
From: _What the New Day is For_ by Tess Gallagher 

Once, back at the Academy, B’Elanna had been assigned a completely useless paper on the history of holodeck technology. Midway through an article, she’d busted out laughing right in the Academy library as she read about the “quiet woosh” of the holodeck door. The doors didn’t woosh. They sounded more like depressurization doors and airlocks than anything else. Of course, that knowledge still did not prepare her for the doors of holodeck two to open abruptly, startling her from the book she’d been lost in. B’Elanna jumped to her feet taking her stance in the center of the conversation pit that was filled with soft body pillows and blankets. She’d beat the intruder off with a cushion if necessary. Instead, she found her captain standing there, dressed for her own hour on the holodeck. Crap. Had the time gone so quickly?

“I’m sorry …” B’Elanna stammered. She still wasn’t comfortable having the captain see her on the holodeck, not since the incidents following the death of the maquis back in the Alpha Quadrant. It had been over a year, but she still twitched at the notion of doing anything other than maintaining the spaces for the crew. “Computer --”

But Janeway held up her hand as she entered the space. “Belay that. I’m early and I …” she shrugged. “Captain’s prerogative, perhaps? I was curious. I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable.” 

The silence only lasted a few seconds but went on for far too many heartbeats before B’Elanna gestured to the nest of pillows in front of a roaring fire. To the side of the hearth, a sugar cookie scented candle burned. “I was just reading. And I know I can read in my quarters and I’m really not a fan of wasting power on the holodeck, and I know I am still earning back my privileges, and …”

“Breathe before you break something,” Janeway said with a chuckle. “And you aren’t earning back anything. I trust you, B’Elanna. More than most of the crew, really.” She shrugged. “Honestly, I came down here to read myself. If you want to share the space, we can extend our time.” 

It took B’Elanna a moment to sort out her thoughts, processing the reality that the captain did indeed trust her. The nagging question of trusting herself lingered, but she’d deal with that later. How long had it been since she and the captain had spent time in the same space, just existing? When she’d first become chief engineer, they’d had so many endless conversations, words tumbling end over end as they finished each other’s sentences about warp tech and theoretical physics. Her respect for the captain hadn’t been for her as a leader, not at first, but for an analytical mind so like her own that B’Elanna still wasn’t sure if there wasn’t a bit of a crush lingering for the older woman. But then life had become less and less about folding space and ways to push the warp drive and more about day-to-day survival. There wasn’t as much time to talk, not when extra duty shifts were dedicated to keeping the ship from falling apart. 

“I’d like that,” she said, realizing again just how awkward she was making it. “If you don’t mind … you know … this.”

“It looks lovely.” A pause. The arch disappeared and Janeway came down into the conversation pit and took a seat, pulling a blanket over her lap. “Where is this?”

“Honestly?” B’Elanna chuckled. “I have no idea. It’s a random program labeled holiday fireplace. It’s a default with the operating system.” 

Janeway’s face broke out in a grin. “Good to know. But the question is, which holiday.” She inhaled deeply. “I smell sugar cookie candles, so … Earth Christmas?”

B’Elanna reclaimed her seat and her own lap blanket. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yes.” 

“What is Christmas anyway? I mean, I know that some cadets back on Earth celebrated it, and Tom loves it, but …all I know is trees and presents. Where does it actually come from?”

“In layman’s terms, it’s a mix and mash of ancient Earth religions. Some involving savior births, others involving polytheistic worship of the sun, and somehow it’s just become about the celebration of family, which I appreciate.” Janeway chuckled. “It’s funny. When I went out into space, I expected to find all these cultures just like Earth. Ones with all of these diverse cultural heritages but where religion just wasn’t as much of a factor. Instead, I find all of these diverse cultural heritages but so many are still bound by singular religious belief. And if not a singular one, then definitely offshoots from a main one…” she shrugged. “Cultural Anthropology did not prepare me for what I found out here.” A pause and B’Elanna searched her face, wondering where her captain’s mind had gone. “I make it sound so simple and I know it’s not. And it’s unfair to just gloss over Earth’s own history, let alone everyone else’s.” 

Carefully, B’Elanna steered the conversation away from potential self-flagellation by her captain. Honestly, she wasn’t in the mood. “My mother was always so focused on my Klingon heritage, which I’m still not sure I forgive her for,'' B'Elanna said, “and Kessik IV didn’t celebrate the Earth holidays even though most of the settlers were human.”

“One constant across the universe is how many of the cultural holidays revolve around the changing of the seasons,”Janeway said. “One thing that always struck me as I did study Ancient Earth history was how similar so many of the different religious holidays were around the different times of year. It’s simplistic to just say that it was the same ceremony draped in new clothes, but I think it was sometimes.” 

“Tom really likes Christmas,” B’Elanna said again, less a reminder and more just an acknowledgement of the man she loved and her acceptance of his quirks. 

Janeway chuckled. “He would. He would. At his heart, Tom is that same kid racing shuttles way too soon and getting excited over the smallest things.” She met B’Elanna’s eyes. “It’s why you love him.” 

A blush touched B’Elanna’s cheek. Did she reveal the book she was reading was the outline for Tom’s new holonovel? “Part of the reason, definitely,” B’Elanna confessed. “He drives me crazy but he’s a good man.” She paused, thinking about the flirtations with Max, the questions she’d asked herself the minute she’d seen his face in the mess hall.Just like she didn’t want to visit Janeway’s demons tonight, she wasn’t in the mood to invite her own into the room, so she kept the focus on the holidays. “The idea of Christmas is very sweet.”

“It’s a tradition in my house … my mother’s house …the decorations, the tree, the presents wrapped in the shiniest paper we can replicate.” Janeway’s voice sounded very forlorn. “Hell, my mother has a nativity scene that’s got to be five hundred years old.” 

“A nativity scene?” B’Elanna squinted as she adjusted the blanket around herself. 

“So, the way Earth celebrates Christmas today, there isn’t a big religious component to it. Some of the religious sects still celebrate those traditions of course, but you don’t see that in the larger conversations. There was a push after the third world war to remove a lot of religious concepts from the larger planetary narrative. I don’t know if it’s been a good push because history and context are important, but … anyway … the idea of Christmas, it was literally the Mass of Christ. The birth of the Christ child, who was born of the Virgin Mary and would bring peace to the world. The way the story goes, she and her husband had come back into Galilee, which is a city in Israel, and were looking for a place to sleep when Mary went into labor. They found themselves at an inn, but there was no room. The innkeeper gave them a place in the stable. The iconography of the story is of Mary and Joseph and the baby, Jesus, surrounded by the cows and sheep of the stable. Some of the scenes have the wise men who travelled to the stable, others just have the family.” Before B’Elanna could ask about a virgin giving birth, Janeway piped up with a grin, “The scholars are still, over 2500 years after this story took place, wondering if virgin meant young woman or woman who had not yet had sex.”

“If she hadn’t had sex …”

“Well, that’s the basis for the religion after all. That God impregnated a virgin to give birth to his son, who would save the world from sin. Wouldn’t be such a cool story if she was just a young bride.” 

B’Elanna paused, but she couldn’t stifle the laugh. “I’m never making fun of Klingon religious practices again.” 

Janeway only smiled, and it was reassuring but there was a tenderness in her eyes. “I’ve been thinking about that story a lot lately. What if centuries of religious construct on Earth was just because a young woman fell in love with an alien who was trapped on the planet?”

“Well,” B’Elanna quipped, knowing they were both thinking of the planet they'd only recently been trapped near, how they had become central to a religion they'd never intended or expected to know. In the end for them, science won out. But, not without shaping literally everything for a culture. “Religion usually needs a miracle to explain it all away. Once science kicks in, that falls to the wayside.” 

“Not always. I mean, there’s a lot of science that goes into religions that’s based on the turning of the seasons after all.” 

“You know,” B’Elanna acknowledged, “you have a point.” 

Janeway shook her head. “But! The nativity scene. I’m not going to get into the theology of it all, but ...my mother’s nativity scene is stunning. It’s made of frosted glass and rests on a mirror so it reflects back the light. And it has wise men and a couple of sheep.” Kathryn shrugged. “I was never much for the religious traditions, although I know that historically the Janeways were Catholic. My mother says our propensity for guilt is built into our DNA at this point.”

“Good to know that guilt is a key factor in Earth religion, too.” 

Janeway giggled. “But, my grandmother makes a killer eggnog and my mother’s cookies are to die for. We’d all exchange books the night before, and stay up reading. My sister was fascinated not with Christmas but with the Winter Solstice and would use the night of the solstice as one for art inspiration. Speaking of science and religion intersecting. The ancient religions on Earth all had similar stories of the days getting warmer again.” She paused. “You know, in the end, all of the stories are really about gathering with family and hoping for the darkness to come round to light again and celebrating when it does.” 

“So many cultures have those stories,” B’Elanna said. “Across all the planets. Doesn’t matter if there are many different religions on the planets or if they’re bound together by one belief system.” 

“Well, there are some similarities …. Planets rotate, and revolve. There are seasons. Darkness and light.” 

B’Elanna nodded and looked over at the fire, putting her thoughts together. “I’m sorry, by the way. About what happened with the Equinox. I know it’s been a while, but … I felt like I had to say it.” So much for not bringing up demons.

“So am I,” Janeway said. “I’ve never felt so lost, so terrified … and it was all because I could see myself in Ransom and I hated that so much.” 

“I think we all saw the worst happening in ourselves. Who wants to admit they’re willing to commit mass murder just to get home?”

“I was proud of you, of Chakotay,” Janeway said. “I didn’t want to be, but you … the maquis … you stuck to Starfleet protocol so much better than so many of the Starfleet officers.” She rubbed her eyes. “You all have a hope that maybe us commissioned officers lack.” 

“We’re used to loving lost causes. Starfleet isn’t so good at that.” 

Janeway barked out a laugh. “No, it really isn’t.” She sighed. “Do you really think getting back to the Alpha Quadrant is a lost cause?”

“Yes,” B’Elanna said. “I do. But I also think it’s one worth chasing. We keep getting pushed closer and closer to the goal. Eventually, we’ll find that wormhole or get the transwarp tech to work. Eventually, we’ll be back …” she waved at the fireplace, “for whatever winter celebrations the families have. I don’t want to settle on some perfectly habitable planet. And it’s funny because I don’t really have a home back there. I’m not like so many of you,” she paused, the emotions of her time on the Barge of the Dead washing over her. She was still processing how she’d been shown, been taught, that she’d made Voyager into her own personal hell and not the home she’d been searching for her entire life. Because, if everything here was hell, what did that mean for the relationships she’d made? “I don’t miss Earth or Bajor or Q'onoS,” B’Elanna said, “or Kessik IV. This ship, for better or worse, it’s my home. But I want the chance to make some place in the Alpha Quadrant my home.” She paused and looked at her captain. “And I think, maybe, it’s time for you to allow yourself some bit of happiness, Captain.” 

“I’m not sure --”

“You know exactly what I mean. You hold yourself back.” A pause. “Permission to speak freely?”

A pause. “Go ahead.” 

“You two love each other. We all know it.” She didn’t bother to specify names. She didn’t need to. “And we all know why you aren’t together and if you are, you’re hiding it well. We get it. That you want to keep things … Starfleet. You want to make this seem like it’s a deep space mission and we’ll be home in a few years. But the truth is, despite how much I would rather not settle down somewhere, barring some miracle, we won’t be home in a few years. Not unless we’re really lucky. And I’m not sure I can keep this ship in one piece for seventy years. So, unless some gift barrels through time and space, we will settle down on some planet that will welcome us. So, maybe it’s time the two of you lead by example and show us how to be more than just a crew. Show us how to be a family.” 

Silence. B’Elanna knew that silence. She knew Janeway was currently regretting granting permission for B’Elanna to speak freely. But the look on the captain’s face told her she was right. And then, the captain nodded and surprised her. “Thank you. I … think I needed to hear that.” 

B’Elanna had no idea how to respond. “You’re welcome,” she finally said. 

“Permission to speak freely is rescinded though.” 

Both of them laughed. 

“It’s been a while since we talked, B’Elanna.” 

“I know. You’ve got other priorities. And, believe it or not, I do love spending time with Tom.” 

“I do believe it. You’re a pretty forceful woman. If you believed it was a waste of time, you wouldn’t be with him.” 

The fire crackled. B’Elanna reached for her padd again, assuming the silence meant that Janeway was ready to get back to reading. Instead, the captain got up and moved to the replicator. “Two hot chocolates,” she said. The drinks materialized and Janeway came back to the conversation pit, handing over the steaming drink. “It’s close to the solstice back on Earth,” Janeway said. “What better time to sit and bond with family.” 

“Maybe we should start our own traditions,” B’Elanna suggested. “Some kind of holiday we create.”

“I’ll talk to Neelix,” Janeway said. “Because you’re right. We are going to be out here for a while and maybe it’s time our celebrations went beyond the crew’s individual cultures. I think it’s important to share, but I also think that maybe we need to take that next step in celebrating what we’re creating here.” 

“You mean, it’s about time we had Stranded in the DQ Day?”

They shared a smile, but Janeway’s eyes were wide and almost sad. “Yes.” 

B’Elanna sipped her hot cocoa. “My abuela made a cocoa with cinnamon and spices. It was one of the few human drinks my mother really liked. She said it was a Klingon drink.” 

“You know, I can’t think of any Klingon drinks I would consider a go-to for my palette.” 

“Hrani’k juice. It’s almost an apple juice, but has a bite to it instead of being super sweet. I programmed the recipe into the replicator after the Barge of the Dead experience, and it’s not half bad.” 

“I’ll remember that. Thank you.” Janeway looked to the fire. B’Elanna followed her gaze. “How are you doing? Since then? Really?”

B’Elanna twitched, her mind pushing back the fog that always came with her thoughts about the Barge. When would she sort it all out? Did she want to? “I’m confused, I’ll be honest. I keep wanting there to be some huge Klingon life revelation and instead I just have to come to terms with my life in the here and now and if that’s the huge Klingon realization I almost died for ….” she laughed. “You know, only Tom knows this, but … I was on Boreth when I was a kid.” 

“Really?”

“My mom sent me there after I told her of my intentions to apply to the Academy. She wanted me to get my Klingon learning in.” 

“It didn’t take?”

“It took more than I wanted it to, honestly. But I don’t think these are lessons I was ready to learn until … now.” 

“Take it from someone who has had her fair share of lessons come thumping at you when you need them, that is exactly how it works.” 

“I just wish I wasn’t so far from her now. Especially …” she shook her head. “It isn’t like my mother kept my father’s interest. But, she still married a human. I wouldn’t mind learning something from her about the mistakes she made navigating that. I’m terrified Tom … will get tired of me.” 

“B’Elanna, trust me. Tom Paris will never get tired of you. If that man has a religion, it’s you. Whether or not that’s healthy is for you two to discuss, but it is true. The only way you two don’t work out is if you stop trying. You two are like Alice in a way. A bit battered and bruised, but when you are running smoothly, it’s seamless.” 

“Wow,” B’Elanna said. “Thank you.” She tilted her head at Janeway. “How did you and Mark meet?”

Tears touched Janeway’s eyes and she almost regretted asking, but the captain forged on. “My sister set us up. They were friends and he had lost his wife and was emerging from that depression. We just … worked together. Took him some time to love the dogs, though.” 

B’Elanna smiled. “That’s wonderful. Have you … did you hear from him when we got those letters?”

“First letter I got,” now Janeway wiped away the tears. “He married someone about a year ago or so. And I’m happy for him. He deserves happiness. I mean, he proposed to me and poof, I’m off to the Delta Quadrant. He’d have every reason not to risk love a third time.” 

“But you miss him.” 

“I miss him, yes. And I miss the security of knowing he was there. My father often talked about that - how it felt to be out in the universe but knowing someone was home, loving him. I felt that with Mark.” 

She wanted to remind the captain that she could feel that way with Chakotay, but decided not to push the issue. Her permission to speak freely had been rescinded. “Were there any others? Who you loved like that?”

Another laugh. “I dated this amazing woman back in my Academy days. Her name was Destrin and she was on the science officer track. We were together our sophomore year but stayed friends up to the day … well. I hope we’re still friends. Oh, B’Elanna, I loved her,” the captain said, her eyes lighting up just a bit. “She was funny and smart and so beautiful and I almost failed biochemistry because of her.” They both laughed. “And she was an assigned science officer for the ship, but we hadn’t picked her up yet. I’m so glad. I’d hate for her to be trapped here. She was actually going to be my matron of honor at my wedding to Mark. But, between her and Mark, there were a few lovers. I actually was sleeping with one of the tactical officers on the Al-Batani for a while, and Justin… well. He could have been something serious, but I wasn’t ready for it. So, we went our separate ways.” A pause. She set her hot cocoa mug aside. “I’m not one for casual relationships.” 

“I’m not either.” 

“Did you have someone? Back in the Alpha Quadrant?”

Slowly, B’Elanna nodded. She stared into her cooled mug of cocoa before setting it aside. “Kreshi. Joral Kreshi. She was in the same maquis cell.” Her breath caught painfully in her chest. “She was killed when the Dominion swept the encampments.”

“I’m so sorry.” 

Tears touched B’Elanna’s eyes and she let the captain’s empathy wash over her. She could feel it radiating. “I wasn’t holding a torch for her. I gave that up when we got stranded here. And then, I fell in love with Tom and that matters and I know that Kresh … she’d have wanted that for me. She wouldn’t have wanted me holding on to some hope that we might see each other again. But, I wish she could have met him. They’d be such good friends.” She wiped her eyes. “Damn, how did we end up down this path.” 

A chime sounded, signaling that even the Captain was bound by the rules of rationed holodeck time. “Saved by the bell?”

B’Elanna stood up and took their mugs back to the replicator in the arch. “End program,” she told the computer. The fire disappeared, as did the conversation pit. They were there, together, without the near-home comfort of the fire and the pillows. B’Elanna met Janeway’s eyes. “Thank you.” 

“You too.” 

A pause. B’Elanna crossed her arms in front of her and quirked a smile. “You know, I am kind of hungry. And, I could use your thoughts on some engineering options … feel like braving Neelix’s leftovers?”

Janeway smiled. “Lead the way. I’ll be up for a while.” 

B’Elanna nodded and turned and together they made their way to the mess hall.

**Author's Note:**

> What The New Day Is For
> 
> The marvel of day after night, ager  
> sleep-travel in one place, after stretching  
> the body out - its surrender.  
> The marvel that sleep is not  
> the quicksand it seems  
> to the child, that the raft of it  
> carries us into morning, and that  
> whatever made us weep yesterday  
> has been strangely visited without us  
> and, its terms, though unrelentingly  
> the same, lift our night-changed hearts. 
> 
> The new day has been given  
> so whatever befell us yesterday  
> can be withstood, not as it was,  
> but as if we had perished  
> into it, and, despite horror or joy.  
> something miraculous could be  
> done with us that surpasses even hope,  
> which only wants ascension of the prospect  
> and not the helpless, dire turn - its  
> clang and echo. 
> 
> As the carriage horse  
> waits for the child's hand on its nose  
> or flank, memory awaits the new day,  
> wants to be stroked - to marvel that  
> with no engine except blood and bone or  
> a wondrous toss of mane and forelock -  
> the fable of the freshly given day  
> can carry not only itself, but  
> all those other days  
> that caused a horse and open carriage  
> to stand for what we remember  
> of the past in our midst. 
> 
> So the new day in our presence is given  
> to pass unforgetting hands  
> before twin tunnels of breath flowing  
> from a great moving oven that insists  
> that the dough rise, that somehow the hungry  
> be fed, and that a lost child, when it is  
> found living, despite the cold  
> of the mountain, assuages  
> as a balm and in abiding  
> beyond even the new day. 
> 
> Not because a child  
> is so wonderful - whining and helpless and  
> freighted with unanswerable mother-love, but  
> because for reasons we don't stop  
> to understand, we have more mercy  
> for the child than the world has.  
> And we know this. For such knowing  
> makes spirits of us, sends the new day,  
> before which we are again ourselves,  
> and more. Having flickered against dread  
> we rise afresh, recomposed  
> by the many-chambered parameters  
> of the night releasing us. 
> 
> Snow falls onto the lashes  
> of the carriage horse. Slow dark orbs  
> in their frosted caves of sight  
> stare down the wounds  
> of mere bodies, coax us out  
> as apparitions: what the new day  
> is for.  
> \- Tess Gallagher


End file.
